


Stars are Nature's Ornaments

by rangerkier



Category: BomBARDed (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerkier/pseuds/rangerkier
Summary: Bardvent Day 4. Can you really be far from home if you don't have one anymore? Randy's on the run and lets himself take a moment to remember better times.





	Stars are Nature's Ornaments

Randy pulled his thinning coat tighter around himself and trudged through the snow. There wasn’t really that much of it, at least if you were one of the larger races of the world. But for him it was well past his knees, his bare feet and calves getting the full force of the chill. Hairy halfling feet helped a bit, but there was only so much that could do. 

He looked up, the dark night sky peeking between the gaps in the evergreens, heavy snowflakes falling between them. In the last town he’d passed through, as he bought what little supplies he could afford, the shop owner reminded him what else came with winter and snow. 

“You’re not from around here. You on your way home? Passing through before the holidays?”

Holidays. In his time with the Nowhere Man he had nearly forgotten. Forgotten what a normal life was like, forgotten the traditions and fun of the Hemp Hills. He regained his composure after the shock of the reminder and got out a quick lie, yes, he was heading home for the holidays. Easier and safer for everyone involved than the truth. If the shop owner noticed his slight hesitation or almost-stutter, he hoped they would chalk it up to the chill.

They had also told him where the inn was, it was getting late, and he looked like he could use a warm meal and a bed. Randy flashed them a smile and a thank you, took his supplies and left the store. And left the town. 

He couldn’t stay put. He had to limit the number of people who saw him, who could say where he went if someone were to come looking. And they would come looking. The weight on his back and the laughter in his head wouldn’t let him forget. He’d taken the stone, taken the wizard, taken the organ, and he ran. They’d be coming after him. And he couldn’t stay anywhere and let them find him.

But he had to rest. He knew the sky got dark a lot earlier in winter, so he kept travelling long after it had. But it had gotten dark hours ago now, and he’d been travelling nearly non-stop for… Days? Weeks? He’d lost track. It didn’t matter anymore because he’d been in a constant state of exhaustion for nearly the entire time and he knew if he didn’t give himself a few breaks it would only get worse. 

So he picked a spot to stop, not that there was really any prime real estate between the pines. But he found a tree that had a good distance between its lowest branches and the forest floor that would provide him good cover. And he got to work giving himself a bit more by packing the snow into a small wall, creating a small space beneath the needles that would contain what little body heat he had, keeping him warmer than he would be otherwise. 

He pulled the weight off his back and set it down close to him as he settled in his bivouac. It was a thin rectangle, not large enough to actually hinder him, wrapped in a worn cloth to hide and protect it. After a moment of trying to just sit back and leave it be, he gave in and pulled it closer, setting it on his crossed legs. 

Randy undid the loose ties that were only there to keep the wrapping in place during travel and folded the cloth back. Underneath was a beautiful device, one he recognized and knew from his childhood. Well, not this specific one, but he recognized what it was, what it could create. It could create music, and that music could tell stories and weave magic.

Carefully, gently, like he was still a kid and this was something he’d been specifically told not to touch, Randy placed his fingers on the keys. He vaguely remembered the proper placement, the way fingers danced across the manual to create the music that was always so important to his family.

He remembered sitting on a bench next to his mother, in front of a larger, full-sized organ. He remembered being mesmerized by the speed and grace as her hands glided over the keys, somehow playing music despite the fact that it looked like they were floating. And he remembered her taking his hand, gently shifting his fingers to show him where they went, trying to play something himself and the way his fingers tripped over each other, never quite able to both hit all the proper notes and play at the right speed. It was always one or the other. But everyone smiled and told him he would get it. 

Sighing, he folded the fabric back over, hiding the organ once again. He hadn’t pressed the keys, hadn’t played a single note. As much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted to reclaim the musical legacy that Rhiannon and the Nowhere Man had taken, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to. Not yet. He redid the ties and set it aside once more. 

The stars and the moons shone down through the branches, just visible from his vantage point beneath them. All around him, the trees towered, snow dusting their needles and clinging to the branches, weighing them down slightly. If he angled himself just right, he could pretend that the lights in the sky were decorations on the trees, gentle and glistening. 

He thought back to long ago, to the tree that stood in their house in the winter. Lights and glass orbs and shimmering strands draped and hung across it, and the small stack of presents that sat beneath. If he jumped directly backwards in time by several years, they would probably be opening those presents soon, maybe even tomorrow morning. He and Joby would bounce around excitedly while their parents got moving, slowly making hot chocolate and seeing how long they could make their children wait. They would sit and sip their hot drinks, watch each other open gifts and laugh at their surprised faces. Talking, laughing and singing songs, writing new lyrics together. 

Randy closed his eyes and kept those better and warmer times in his mind as he tried not to let the chill get to him.


End file.
